


The Irresistible Paradox

by PegLegMegg



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PegLegMegg/pseuds/PegLegMegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?<br/>Alternative Aelin/Manon encounter :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Irresistible Paradox

Today is the first day I've managed to find time to be alone, and it is glorious. I wake shortly after dawn, yesterdays training with Rowan still ghosting my muscles as I softly slip from our shared bed and dress in a light tunic and pants. I look to the door and see my weapons belt slung over the chair in the corner, I snatch it up and scurry down to the kitchen to pack a small lunch of bread and apples and sweets slipping out of the kitchen like a whisper. An hours hike into the woods and I find a clearing with a large boulder jutting from the centre of the floral, woodland floor. An excellent place to stop and let the world pass me by, even if it's for a few hours.  
I climb the boulder, lay on my back and look up at the tree canopy, watching the branches dance peacefully in the breeze. The way they move with and against one another, it reminds me of sparring matches with Rowan. Gods he'll be mad when he finds the bed empty, thats if he hasn't already. It wouldn't take him long to find me from the skies. I shrug and take a bite out of an apple, not letting his impending temper ruin my serenity.  
A cramp in my lower back interrupts my daydreaming and I sit up to stretch out, I should've spared time to grab a blanket, idiot. I scan the treescape, not looking for anything in particular. Just letting my eyes drift lazily, absorbing the colours of the flowers, the luminosity of the suns rays all set against the infinite greens of the forest, I love the outdoors, the smell of the trees and the clean air on my face. And then my eyes see red. A trail of deep, deep red weaving through the trees in the distance, I narrow my eyes to focus. A young woman draped in a crimson cloak, running with speed my eyes can hardly follow. Her hair streaming out behind her like snow on the wind. I jump up, palming the hilt of the dagger at my waist as her path brings her closer to my new found sanctuary.  
She skids to a stop at the tree formed boundary surrounding the clearing. Her eyes meet mine and I'm instantly startled. Her beauty is breathtaking, her white hair a stark contrast against her red cloak. I could stare at her face as if it were a fine oil painting but those golden eyes. I've seen many a bird of prey in my time but her eyes are sharper, keener than that of any prize hawk. The air snaps with electricity, she has more than a touch of magic about her, no human is that flawless. The weapons strapped to her torso and limbs leaves me brimming with envy, she's a warrior, a predator to her very bones. I feel my lips turn up in a smile, issuing a silent challege to this radiant animal.  
Her eye's burst with flame. A thousand shades of amber shimmer as she rakes her gaze over my body, she snorts.  
'Pathetic mortal.'  
Rage sweeps through me like a wave over rocks. I am Adarlans Assassin, Queen of Terrasen. I somersault down from the top of the rock and land neatly in a predatory crouch. I know nothing about this woman but every fibre in my body is screaming enemy. Blood pumping in my ears, I rise unsheathing both of my daggers. Ready for close quarter combat. From her shape and size I deduce she'll be fast, and from the look of her weapons, vicious.  
'So you wish to be dinner?' A swift flash of silver-grey manages to drag my gaze from her eyes to her mouth. Iron teeth?  
'Witch.' I hiss. This fight just became unavoidable. I will not tolerate rogue witches roaming the countryside, murdering innocents. My mind drifts back to my encounter with Baba Yellowlegs, this may be harder work than anticipated. My adrenal glands go into overdrive and I ready my daggers. She wastes no time in rushing me with iron claws poised to rip my innards from my body, I dance away and take a swipe at her torso only for my knife to be met by her silver talons. I grin and she replies in kind. This is going to be fun.  
I sweep low, aiming a kick to her ankles not expecting to recieve a boot to the jaw. My world becomes blurs as I fly across the ground. She matches me for speed, she may even be faster. I need to re-evaluate, find a weak spot. I roll back and sit on my haunches, she's predominately right handed, leaving her rightside open to attack when she's in the throes of an assault. She begins to circle, pondering her next move. I decide not to waste any time, I sprint toward her slashing at her face with one blade, she lifts both hands to parry the blow but I'm prepared and plant my second in her ribcage.  
I'm denied the satisfaction of her scream. She whirls around, not bothering to remove the dagger from her side, blue blood staining her hands. I know that would be a fatal blow on any human, but witches. They're de-sensitised, the pain would would be nothing more than an inconvenience, and this would not kill her. The snarl that erupts from her rosebud lips sends a chill down my spine. She reaches over her shoulder and draws out a knife that must've been strapped to her back. She adopts a defensive stance, her form nothing short of exquisite. My lone dagger ready to enter the fray again.  
We face off, matching each other blow for blow, our blades glinting in the sun. Before I have any time to think I see her knife swinging for my chest, instincts take over and I raise my free hand. Burning pain erupts as her blade slices through my palm. I choke on the scream that almost leaves my lips and decide it's time to shift, I need more speed. I need my magic. A ripple of pain and I see the world through my Fae eyes.  
Her wide eyed expression tells me to strike now, while the shock roots her to the spot. I grip the pommel of her blade with my bleeding hand and kick her away from me. She releases her blade and rolls away. I quickly and carefully pull the blade from my hand as she draws two small throwing knives, and launches them in my direction. I drop to the ground feeling the soft gusts of air passing just above my hair.  
'Nice aim, witch.' Diving ahead I throw a punch aimed for her jaw, she twirls away but a last minute reflex guides me and I swing my body towards her and kick out. I put all my force in to landing a kick on the pommel of the blade buried in her side. This time I got a scream. Her roar bellows throughout the woodland as she drops to her knees. Flocks of birds scatter from the trees. She heaves silently, her breath ragged. Blue blood pooling on the ground beside her quaking figure.  
I see my chance to finish this and channel my magic, allowing ribbons of fire to stream from my fingertips. She looks up at me, her eyes searching.  
'What is your name?' Her voice betraying her obvious agony.  
'I am Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, what is your name witch?' A bird cries overhead and I know it's Rowan searching desperately, a shudder of relief descends my spine. He would most definitely have felt this spike of power through our bond. He's going to be furious.  
The witch stands and lifts her head high to meet my stare. 'My name is Manon Blackbeak, Wing Leader and Heir to the Blackbeak Clan.' She returns her knife to its hidden sheath and begins to tend to her wound. I freeze, confused. What is she doing?  
'Elide Lochan didnt tell me you are a warrior or that you are Fae. She's been looking for you Queen of Terrasen. She wishes to return to her court.'  
Elide? My mind shatters. Dormant memories overwhelming my thoughts. Elide, the young girl who used to clutch at her mothers skirts at the mere sight of me. The girl I had known from birth. If Elide is alive I will find her and bring her home. I will butcher my way through one hundred witches to see it done. My fire surges at the thought and a poorly controlled inferno sweeps over the ground.  
'I can see why Elide likes you Queenling.' Manon smiles at me, her teeth flashing, reflecting the flames. I watch her make her way over to an unscorched patch of grass. 'Sit, I have much to tell you.'  
I extinguish my flames and make my way toward her, still weary this may be a ploy. I crouch opposite the witch and watch her settle. Her eyes meet mine and she retracts her iron teeth. She takes a breath,  
'What do you know about Morath?'


End file.
